


A Memory, a Year ~ a Second, a Tear

by 64_words



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, M/M, OOC, Reunions, Self-Indulgent, Song Lyrics, Ti Amo, birthday fic :), dont worry its all good tho, i wrote this in like 3 hours plz be nice T-T
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27150223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/64_words/pseuds/64_words
Summary: it's andres birthdaymartin takes a moment to celebrate what little is leftbut will he stay alone?~a self-indulgent birthday fic bcs hey! it's my birthday!
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Tatiana
Comments: 16
Kudos: 38





	A Memory, a Year ~ a Second, a Tear

**October 23rd, 2019**

“Happy birthday, _mi amor_ ,” The apartment was just as empty as ever, just as desolate and terrible, but saying it out loud made Martin smile. Just a little.

He stood up from the couch, making his way over to the record player. Slowly, Martin looked through box after box of records, smiling softly at each one before he reached the one he was looking for.

_Ti Amo_

Martin picked it up, taking it out and holding the small square case in both of his hands. Memories of him and Andres, working, talking, drinking, dancing to this tune flooded his mind. Images of Andres caught mid-laugh, of him in the monastery gardens, bathing in the golden Italian sun, of Andres just after a robbery, hiding out in some dingy motel.

O-of the night.

A single tear escaped him. Martin felt it draw a path down his cheek, slowly -at first, then picking up the pace. It moved all the way down, coming to a stop at his chin. All it took was a shallow, shaky breath, and the tear dropped.

Martin tilted the case, and the disk dropped into his hands. With trembling fingers, Martin pressed the disk into place. The opening notes began, and Martin closed his eyes, allowing himself to be caught in the rhythm.

_Ti amo_

_In sogno, ti amo_

_In aria, ti amo_

_Se viene testa vuol dire che basta lasciamoci_

_Ti amo_

_Io sono, ti amo_

_In fondo un uomo_

_Che non ha freddo nel cuore e nel letto, comando io_

**October 23rd, 1995**

“Holy shit -fuck-, ANDRES!” Martin could feel his blood pounding through him, burning like fire, running faster than any river. His hands were shaking, he could feel the coarse fabric of his jacket moving in his fingers.

He didn’t care.

They’d _made_ it

Robbed them blind

He and Andres had just made off with eighteen hundred euros worth of jewels and priceless gems. 

“Fuck.” Try as he might, he couldn’t quite say anything else. Try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Andres… w-we did it!” Martin dropped his jacket, running both hands through his hair. He could feel the energy fizzling in his veins, Martin could practically _feel_ small sparks of electricity flying from his fingertips. “Fuck.” Martin looked up, taking in Andres.

Even here, in the yellow light of the dodgy motel room they’d rented, he looked stunning. Martin felt a sudden urge, from deep within him, almost tugging at Andres. He wanted to hold him close, to pull him roughly by the lapels of his infuriatingly clean suit jacket and press their mouths together, to press -or be pressed- against the wall in a moment of desperate passion.

He mentally slapped himself

Martin would _not_ fuck this up

“Fuck,” He whispered one last time, before allowing his knees to give out over the bed.

From somewhere behind him, the melodious trill of Andres’ soft laughter sounded.

“How are you?” Martin’s face was in the pillows. Frankly, he had no energy, no will to lift his head. The high had suddenly dissipated. All he felt was tired… and-

“Thirsty,” He mumbled into his pillow.

“Come on, Martin. Up you get.” Despite himself, Martin found himself forcing himself up. He was face-to-face with Andres.

His eyes were bright with mirth, with a wild passion that made Martin's heart skip a beat. “No, really. How do you feel?”

A moment of silence. Martin reflected on what he’d just been through. 

The silent entry, the kid-in-the-candy-store feeling, the police arriving at the last moment, the man who’d held them at gunpoint for nothing more than a moment (Andres, it seemed, was a terribly imposing man in any position), then their sudden -marvelous- disappearance visa vi the off-road track that lead to the motel.

Martin felt everything

The adrenaline, the rush of fear, the realization of victory, the celebration, the worry, _everything_

“I feel alive,”

Andres features broke out into a bigger grin than Martin had ever seen in the whole 3 months he’d known the man.

_Ma tremo davanti al tuo seno_

_Ti odio e ti amo_

_È una farfalla che muore sbattendo le ali_

_L'amore che a letto si fa_

_Rendimi l'altra metà_

_Oggi ritorno da lei_

_Primo Maggio, su coraggio_

**October 23rd, 1997**

The bar was alight, not with fluorescent lights like Martin was used to, but gentle candles and classy lamps.

The perfect place for Andres’ birthday

“Martin, can I ask you something important?” Martin looked up, snapping his gaze quickly away from the bartender who’d caught his eye.

“Of course,” There was something heavy, sincere in Andres’ eyes. Somehow, he looked worried, confident, embarrassed and excited all at once. Martin could feel his heartbeat speed up slightly. The intensity of Andres’ gaze was quickly becoming too much to bear. He didn't make a move to continue, or indeed to ask his supposed question. “Andres? What is it?”

Andres cleared his throat, dropping his head down and giving a short, breathless chuckle. 

“What do you think of Maria?” Martin felt whatever breath he’d been holding leave his body.

“Wonderful girl b-” He’d wanted to draw Andres’ attention to the fact that she’d cheated on him multiple times, clearly infidel and unfaithful. But the way Andres’ eyes lit up at his words, the added brightness to his smile. Martin’s words died in his throat.

“I -uh- I asked her if she would marry me.” Andres looked up at him, eyes searching, narrowed in their desperation to scout out Martin’s reaction. 

It took him only a moment to process the news. Martin worked quickly to ensure that his face was painting the right picture, writing the right words for Andres to read.

Andres was _getting married_

Martin smiled broadly, scooching himself closer in, leaning conspirative closer to Andres

“What did she say?” Andres’ own face broke out in an expression that likely mirrored his,

“Martin, I’m getting married!”

“Oh my god, Andres, holy shit! You’re getting married! _Hermano_ , I’m so happy for you!” Martin pulled Andres in for what he was sure would have been a bone-crushing hug. He felt Andres laugh into his shoulder, clapping him on the back a few times.

“But that’s not all I wanted to tell you.” Martin sobered himself up again.

“What is it? Do you need help picking a suit?” Andres smirked at Martin’s jab

“Something like that. I was- Well I was actually wondering if you wanted to be my best man?”

The breath left his body

Andres wanted _him_ to be his best man. He wanted Martin to stand by his side, to ensure that everything was ready, to keep everything exactly the way it needed to be.

“Well?”

Martin felt a small, shaky smile replace his other one.

“Of course, Andres. It would be my honor.”

_Lo ti amo e chiedo perdono_

_Ricordi chi sono_

_Apri la porta a un guerriero di carta igienica_

_E dammi il tuo vino leggero_

_Che hai fatto quando non c'ero_

_E le lenzuola di lino_

_Dammi il sonno di un bambino_

  
  


**October 23rd, 2000**

Martin hummed along to the music as he read on his bed.

From just underneath him -the kitchen- sounds echoed. The distinct sound of Andres and Maria shouting left him with fairly conclusive evidence of what was occurring.

Their marriage had not been doing well as of late. There had been an increasing number of nights with loud arguments and sounds of slamming doors. What was different this time, was that Andres had caught Maria with another man - likely the one who’d come by to “greet the happy couple” not a week ago. But, if Martin was, to be honest with himself, he hadn’t expected such a violent confrontation.

The best in Martin wanted to go down and try to salvage his best friend’s marriage, or to -in the very least- soften the blow. 

But the best in Martin was also the minority.

The worse side of him -the majority- just wanted to ride out the storm, wait for Maria to leave, and allow Andres to wallow in self-pity for a while.

But Martin was neither one of his sides.

Eventually, the shouts would die down, eventually, Maria would leave. Hopefully, Andres would come to him for comfort. Martin liked to think that -as his best friend- that was his job. A shoulder to cry on if nothing else. 

But for now, all Martin could do would be to wait.

***

A loud bang sounded. _She_ was gone. 

The monastery settled into silence immediately. Martin couldn’t even hear Andres. For a moment, he debated what he should do:

-On the one hand, Andres was dealing with what could be a divorce. He needed someone by his side.

-On the other hand, Martin didn’t want to seem _overeager_ in any way. He didn’t want his care for his… friend to be misinterpreted.

Closing his book, Martin moved himself so he was upright. Enough was enough. Andres needed him. And if he didn’t, Martin could always pretend he was going to get a cup of water or something equally unsuspicious. Just as he was scooting off the side of his bed, the door burst open.

Martin leapt back, already half-way over the other side before recognizing the disheveled figure before him as Andres. He immediately relaxed, standing up and making his way around the bed. Martin stopped just short of an arms-length away from Andres, almost bouncing on the tips of his toes.

“Uh- Hey?” A heavy sigh, so uncharacteristic for Andres that Martin would have officially declared himself concerned.

“Hey.”

“Maria?” Andres didn’t respond, only giving Martin a mute nod. It was up to Martin to lift Andres’ spirits. 

“Come on, let’s get some wine into you,” A soft smile accompanied his words, and Martin, with the courage of someone doing something for the right reason, took Andres’ hand in his and lead him to the bed.

As though he were an adult leading a child along the sidewalk, then dropping them off at the day-care. Without any resistance, Andres just _let_ Martin lead him, sat when instructed, and waited. Once he’d made sure Andres was comfortably seated, Martin moved to the other side of his room, retrieving the expensive wine he’d reserved for a special occasion, pulling up a chair so he could sit opposite Andres.

“Have you ever been in love, Martin?” Martin felt himself blanch, felt the colour drain from his face.

“I -uh-, yeah, Andres. I have.” He forced himself to stop talking before he added the ‘am’ that was on the tip of his tongue.

“Have you ever been cheated on?” Though his heart was racing, Martin gave Andres a calm, understanding smile,

“Yes, Andres. I have.” Martin didn’t look at Andres as he poured him his glass. For nothing more than a moment, faces of boyfriends and flings alike raced in his mind. Ones that a younger, more naive, Martin had allowed himself to love. To be open to.

“Have you ever cheated?” This question didn’t take any thought,

“Never.”

“Really?” Martin allowed a teasing element into his previously pure kind smile

“Think of it as a policy. I might not look it, but I'm a very loyal person, Andres.” At this, Andres raised his eyes.

Martin, who’s gaze had steadily been directed at Andres for some time now, was caught up in the intensity. It was as though Andres was looking for -daring Martin to have- some sign of deception, of trickery, of deceit.

Martin felt like he was being put under a microscope, with Andres as the scientist and Martin as the subject. 

He set his jaw

No matter how hard Andres looked, all he would find would be loyalty. Loyalty to the friendship, the bond, they shared.

“I know, Martin. I know you are.”

_Che, ta, sogna cavalli e si gira_

_E un po' di lavoro_

_Fammi abbracciare una donna che stira cantando_

_E poi fatti un po' prendere in giro_

_Prima di fare l'amore_

_Vesti la rabbia di pace e sottane sulla luce_

**October 23rd, 2005**

Andres threw his head back in laughter.

Even now, even after all this time, it still sent shivers down his spine.

“Would it be so terrible? To see the entire wealth of Spain, sitting in our basement. Just imagine,” Martin sat upright, bouncing his leg unconsciously along to the rhythm of the song that was playing in the background, “Think about it. Their impossibly secure vault brought to its knees. And with what? Nothing more than a bit of simple engineering.” Martin stilled, nibbling on his bottom lip to contain his excitement.

Slowly, the beginnings of a smirk made their ways to the corners of Andres’ mouth. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded.

“Martin, _mi ingeniero_ , it’s brilliant. It’s a poem, a work of art!” Caught in the moment of passion, Andres stood up, prompting Martin to do the same.

“The best part is, we would walk away with _90 tonnes_ of gold!” Martin stopped to smirk back at the board where he’d been teasing the idea earlier, “It’s genius, it’s poetic, it carries meaning -even Sergio would like that-, and by the end of it, we could live the rest of our lives without ever again lifting a finger.” Martin was just about panting, already so caught up in the idea, “So- What do you say?”

The wide grin that spread across Andres’ features was worth those 90 tonnes and more, bright and ecstatic with the alluring promise of eternal wealth.

“I say my brother’s going to need to put his money-printing idea on hold. Because this, Martin? This is art.”

_Lo ti amo e chiedo perdono_

_Ricordi chi sono_

_Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo_

**October 23rd, 2010**

“Martin, c’mere-” Andres looked absolutely wasted, his hair was completely disheveled, his eyes were droopy, and his smile was larger than life.

Cautiously, Martin got up from his spot in the chair and made his way over to Andres.

“Yeah?”

Suddenly, Andres’ arms were around him. Martin was engulfed in the smell of maple firewood, both warm and sweet, vivid, and textural. Through his own semi-drunken state, Martin could feel one of Andres’ hands come to a stop on his waist, one wrapping around his shoulder.

They were pulled close, closer than they’d ever been. Martin knew he’d been drinking for a reason, he knew something had gone terribly wrong, but he couldn’t recall anymore.

He didn’t want to.

Andres’ arms were around him, and everything was right in the world.

“Martin?”

“Hm?” From where Martin’s head rested on Andres’ shoulder (when had it gotten there? For the life of him, he couldn’t remember), he could hear the smile in his voice.

“Do you think I’ll die alone?” Martin snapped his head up, feeling his eyes widening. He was too drunk to carefully plan his words, find the right ones, and put them in the right order.

“‘Ndres-” Martin paid no mind to his slight slur, “You are the ‘nly person I know who’ll have s’meone for-v’r… o-ok? I-If it's not a wife… t-then i’m here? Ok? I-I’ll always be here.”

Andres’ next words were garbled, lost to the mind-numbing fuzz that seemed to overtake Martin. In the calming silence that the fuzz brought, Martin simply enjoyed being held by Andres, simply let his smell, his feel, his touch, completely and wholly take him.

_Dammi il tuo vino leggero_

_Che hai fatto quando non c'ero_

_E le lenzuola di lino_

_Dammi il sonno di un bambino_

**October 23rd, 2015**

Martin watched on as Andres spun through the monastery garden, holding the microphone to his lips and staring intently at Tatiana.

Who could blame him? 

The woman was beautiful, enchanting, brilliant. A goddess in every sense of the word. Deserving of everything and more, just as Andres was.

From the table he was seated at, Martin gave a shaky sigh. It was no coincidence that Andres’ wedding had taken place on his birthday, no coincidence that he chose that particular song to play.

It was poetic, in a sense.

Every year, Martin had been there. Martin had been there, and -by coincidence or not- so had the song Andres was currently singing.

It rocked him harder than it should’ve. The song had, in a way, become a small symbol. A little nod to their relationship -though the lyrics in no-way lined up to their current situation-, a small consistency in just about every moment they shared together.

It felt like goodbye.

Martin knew his eyes were wet, he knew Sergio was looking at him and thinking the wrong things, he knew that he’d shown his hand.

The subtle sting of betrayal shot through him for a moment, before he forcefully pushed it away.

All good things must come to an end, he told himself.

It was better for everything to end here and now, a wedding, a celebration.

Martin wouldn’t pretend to be happy about it, but he certainly wasn’t going to break down in the middle of his best-friend’s wedding.

Taking a puff of breath, Martin stood up, adjusting his suit jacket.

He might as well have a bit of fun with the monks.

_Che, ta, sogna cavalli e si gira_

_E un po' di lavoro_

_Fammi abbracciare una donna che stira cantando_

_E poi fatti un po' prendere in giro_

_Prima di fare l'amore_

_Vesti la rabbia di pace e sottane sulla luce_

**October 23rd, 2019**

Martin shook his head lightly.

That night, Andres had left. It had been the night he’d given Martin everything he could have ever wanted -fame and fortune be damned-, only to rip it away from him. He’d given Martin a taste, nothing more. He’d promised that they’d see each other again, that _time would bring them back together_. 

But he’d been wrong

Andres had died in the Mint, and now? Now there was nothing, no one left.

_Lo ti amo, ti amo, ti_

_Amo, ti amo, ti_

_Amo, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo_

A knock, insistent and loud came from the door. 

Martin didn’t bother to get dressed, to stop the music, not even to run a hand through his hair. There was no point. This would be the mailman, come to address a bill. Or the old lady who lived upstairs who liked to come check on him.

The knocks grew more rapid, more incessant.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Martin tried his hardest not to stumble as he moved through his apartment, ignoring the boxes upon boxes packed to the brim with sentimental and invaluable garbage.

Martin didn’t bother to check the peephole, why would he? It would waste time and frankly, this person’s knocks were annoying him half to death.

He swung open the door, ensuring that there was a welcoming smile stretched over his features.

No

H-His eyes were playing tricks-

N-no. It wasn’t- it _couldn’t_ -

“ _Buenas tardes,_ Martin.”

What the fuck had he drunk in the morning? Was he dead? How was Andres-

No

He wasn’t here.

Martin raised a shaking hand to his face, shaking his head. His heart beats grew erratic, his hands shaking slightly. Martin tried to pull in a breath, tried to bring himself to move forward

“No... Y-you’re not- y-you’re not real-” He’d dropped his hand from his face, balling it by his side,

“I assure you, Martin. I really am here. It’s me. Time brought us back.” There it was.

The hesitant smile, the shine in his eyes.

It really was Andres.

“Please, may I come in? I am on the run, after all.” Martin felt himself step backward, and he watched, caught between horror, ecstasy, and anger as Andres moved seamlessly through his mess of an apartment. “Thank you, Ma-”

“Where the FUCK have you been? N-no scratch that! What the FUCK do you THINK you’re doing here?! What?! Sergio didn’t have some hideout for you? You couldn’t find your way back?” A sneer, foreign to even Martin, took residence over his facial features, crafting his expression into that of bitter amusement, savage defenses, “Or what? You thought you’d pay me a _visit_? Check up on me?”

Martin didn’t know where all the anger was coming from. Not 5 minutes ago, he’d been whispering happy-birthday wishes to the dark space where Andres should’ve been.

And now here he was

And Martin was _furious_

“Martin, please I can explain-”

“Which part?! The Mint? The death? Finding me? Le-” Martin’s voice broke. He took a moment to swallow painfully, “Leaving me?”

Andres was close

So close

Just short of an arm’s-length

_Ti amo, ti amo, ti_

“I can explain it all, Martin. Just give me a chance… Please.” Andres’ voice was gentle, softer than anything Martin had ever heard. It warmed his heart and almost made the anger dissipate.

“Just- Andres, _why_ ? _That_ night. Why did you leave? W-Why did you kiss me? Andres, why?”

“I was-”

“No lies,” Martin could feel a tear slide down the side of his face, refreshing the track from the earlier one. Andres’ eyes widened, “Please, I couldn’t bear it. N-not anymore Andres,” Andres’ mouth was still pressed into a thin line, almost as though he were still considering what version of the truth he should tell, “I can’t do it anymore.”

A gasp, more of a muffled sob.

“Martin-” Andres’ voice broke for a second, and Martin watched as Andres turned his head to the side, screwing his eyes together, “I was dying,” Andres turned his head back, opened his eyes and looked directly into Martin’s own. “My mother’s disease. They thought I would die in a few years. I-I wanted you to be able to heal… I-I thought if maybe you hated me it would be easier-”

“Did you mean it?” Their eyes were still locked, Andres’ deep hickory eyes meeting Martin’s own azure blue ones.

“With every cell of my being.” When Martin made no indication of moving, Andres continued, “I love you, Martin.”

“100%?”

“100%”

Andres’ answer was all Martin got as a warning. All of a sudden, they were crashing their lips together. Andres moved his right hand to cup Martin’s cheek, threading his fingers through the hair they could reach. His left hand found purchase slung around Martin’s waist, tugging him so close it would’ve hurt to breath. Martin, for his part, grabbed the lapels of Andres’ jacket, harshly yanking Andres down to meet his height.

When they did finally part for air, they were both panting, chests heaving in sync.

They spent the moment in which they caught their own breaths to stare at each other, study one another. A lot had changed in the last few years, after all.

But now they had time

At this thought, a smile found its way onto Martin’s face, lighting up the dark and murky vision he’d adopted for his near future.

_Amo, ti amo, ti_

Andres was here

Andres was with him

Andres _loved_ him

“Andres?”

“ _Si, mi amor?_ ” Martin’s heart fluttered, picking up speed once again. Martin gave Andres a small smile:

“Happy birthday.” Martin lay his head against Andres’ chest, simply enjoying the feeling of Andres’ arms around him, holding him, and finally, _finally_ , belonging to him

Just as he’d always belonged to Andres.

“ _Te quiero, Martin. Te quiero.”_

  
  
  


_Amo, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo_

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> I hope y'all enjoyed this little fic. literally just wrote it because it's my birthday and I had nothing better to do (currently 3:20 AM lmao). i hope it wasn't too ooc, idk if u could tell, but i had just about no idea how to write their little reunion at the end. but ah well. at least i did something XD.  
> oooh also, idk when andres' birthday is in the series, so I just put it as October 23 because -like i said before- this is a self-indulgent fic :)
> 
> so yea :)  
> leave a comment and/or kudos if it wasn't terrible?
> 
> love y'all and stay safe 💖💖💖💖💖💖💕💕💕🥰🥰🥰🥺🥺🥺😘😘😘😘✨✨✨😊😊😊


End file.
